Ramblings of an Idle Insomniac
Letting the weirdness out since 2004; one long night at a time
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Saturday, April 29, 2006
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
Just found out that someone from my scout troop was charged with vehicular homicide.
I hated him as a kid. I was I think the only one who didn't like him then, aside from perhaps my father. There were people who thought me an asshole for not helping him complete his Eagle project.
Saw the news article about it. Saw the name of the kid who lost his life in the passenger seat as that fucker wove through traffic at 100 miles an hour while drunk.
He was in my third grade class and on my little league team and later the middle school basketball team with me. During a time when I was pretty much a social outcast, and he very much wasn't, he was my friend. I hadn't heard from him since seventh grade.
Not exactly the vindication I wanted.
Rich, I'm sorry. But what the fuck were you doing with that asshole?
And the thing is that I know that he was bound to fuck up. I was certain that he'd self-destruct before he hit 25. Not now. He's looking at 30 years in prison, which sucks for him but not nearly as much as the fatal wreck or overdose that was due him. He may have saved his own life by killing my friend.
And it's not like this was the first time he'd ever wrecked a car while driving drunk. I bet this time his mother won't buy him another one. Bitch.
See what I mean about losing contact? It sucks.
Rest in peace, buddy. Sorry we fell out of touch.
I hated him as a kid. I was I think the only one who didn't like him then, aside from perhaps my father. There were people who thought me an asshole for not helping him complete his Eagle project.
Saw the news article about it. Saw the name of the kid who lost his life in the passenger seat as that fucker wove through traffic at 100 miles an hour while drunk.
He was in my third grade class and on my little league team and later the middle school basketball team with me. During a time when I was pretty much a social outcast, and he very much wasn't, he was my friend. I hadn't heard from him since seventh grade.
Not exactly the vindication I wanted.
Rich, I'm sorry. But what the fuck were you doing with that asshole?
And the thing is that I know that he was bound to fuck up. I was certain that he'd self-destruct before he hit 25. Not now. He's looking at 30 years in prison, which sucks for him but not nearly as much as the fatal wreck or overdose that was due him. He may have saved his own life by killing my friend.
And it's not like this was the first time he'd ever wrecked a car while driving drunk. I bet this time his mother won't buy him another one. Bitch.
See what I mean about losing contact? It sucks.
Rest in peace, buddy. Sorry we fell out of touch.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
This star nonsense, what do you think of it?
Errata: This entire post is meant as a snapshot into the consciousness of the blogger, in the hopes that it would be seen to be entertaining. We, the editors of Ramblings of an Idle Insomniac make no finding in that department, and feel it's best to note that the writer here has a highly irregular mind. And while one would almost certainly have to administer a comprehension examination to any who aren't by now abundantly aware of this, the point is worth re-emphasis. While some, when finding themselves in such a mood, sleep on it and feel better in the morning, it is the avowed position of the staff that no problem that this crazed Wombat has ever had has ever been solved by sleep. As such, the Wombat has not slept since the following writing, and has instead taken a walk outside, acted, and played the below-referenced song several times on his most favored properly named object, and all is now as well as a reasonable person could expect it to be. The previous sentance is entirely hypothetical as there are currently no reasonable people on the premises to interrogate, but a full investigation into the matter shall be forthcoming. A simple fix, but if it is possible to accomplish those things in the dead of night then the R&D department at Insomniac Labs will be slaughtered by sundown (Ever thus to the useless). In summation, the following text made perfect and absolute sense at the time. And moreover, we further apologize for making this post even fucking longer. The Wombat has since perused this prelude and had this to contribute: "Editing staff? Please report to the testing levels at Insomniac Labs"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So there hasn't been anything here since Monday. To tell the truth I don't know why. I've been present about the internets; just quiet. It may be that I've as the Websnark (who I hardly ever mention here but is a fantastic writer. The only problem is that the topic of his site is webcomics, a matter that's, well, rather esoteric ;) and of little interest to many of you) makes reference to, gone tharn for a couple of days.
Remember Watership Down? It's the rabbit's term for the phenomenon that occurs when the fight or flight reflex is overwhelmed and they shut down and their only hope for survival is that the hawk doesn't notice them.
Am I about to take the hard fall from a looming shadow? I don't think so. But one can never be certain of these things. I mean, I did get photographed by a private snoop today. True story. I was walking along Revere Beach with my three [lovely] aunts (not to say that they are my only aunts or even my only lovely aunts, but they do happen to be the only lovely aunts of mine that I was walking along the beach with). A man in a leather jacket holding a camera appeared in front of us on the sidewalk I don't know how many times he clicked the shutter (ok so in truth I don't definitively know that he even clicked it once) but if he took a single shot then I'm certain he focused in on each of us at least once. No clue what to make of this. It's creepy as all hell and I wonder if maybe this blog has something to do with it. Of course, it could be nothing. Because if someone was tailing me it would be pretty fucking amateurish of them to make themselves visible.
It's a hell of a coincidenc, given that I was pretty much in the perfect frame of mind to freak out about that shit. I'm hardly paranoid as a matter of habit, but were paranoia to strike me the sort of mood I've been in today would certainly favor it. I think I can define it now, actually.
This is exactly how I felt during my sophomore year in high school, the year I was formally diagnosed with ADD, and the year I almost flunked out due to, among other things, extreme chemical imbalance that stemmed from a number of causes (Fuck you, Tom Cruise). One was most certainly the ADD. And of course, due to a number of factors, my size, my strange-ish metabolism, it was hard to discern the proper dosage of medication. The experimentation wasn't my favorite process in the world. Another was what was probably an undiagnosed case of depression. Causes there? Can't say for certain. I think that part of it had to do with my grandfather's death the previous year, and maybe another bit had to do with finding out that a friend from grade school had fallen in with a gang, but that was hardly all of it. And also, this was the year that 9/11 happened. I knew that the man with the button couldn't be trusted. Didn't have proof; that didn't come until later. But suffice to say, in the state of mind I was in this was a bad scene. And, given the nature of the events, I was hardly going to bitch about how it hit me, because I recognized that in perspective that shit was trivial. My father knew though. Sat me down and tried to reassure me. He said, "we're going to get them." I vaguely remember someone else saying as much.
Ha fucking ha.
But that wasn't it, either. Even more was piled on. English class. Great teacher. The material? Pretty much the cream of the crop of depressing books by American authors. Earnest Hemmingway's Farewell To Arms. F Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman. And of course, JD Sallinger's Catcher in the Rye.
The silver lining was that my creativity took a serious upshot. I wrote some good poetry. Not high school poetry either. Good poetry, and this coming from people who knew what they were talking about. The problem is I can't seem to find any of it.
I was also experiencing a feeling of overarching detatchment. I felt disconnected from my school as this was also the year I decided I wouldn't be getting confirmed as a Catholic. I was disconnected from my friends; had few people I was good friends with at school and an entire hometown full of lost or fading contacts. And my situation at home was stressed by my lackluster performance at a school my parents were paying me to go to.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail
A smile from a veil
Do you think you can tell
It passed, eventually. I was able to pull my grades out of the fire and didn't even end up needing to go to summer school. And the next year I found a home within the school in the theater, and the others in the Dramatics Society became a sort of second family. Hadn't completely kicked my problems, but I'd taken some steps in the right direction. Of course, I hadn't addressed everything...
I was in a similar but less severe situation when I first started this blog. New school, that at the time didn't seem to be capable of presenting and intellectual challenge. The one person I could relate to I fell off the deep end for. And the results were, well, confusing. And that fucker in chief went and got himself re-elected by appealing to the fear and loathing of the autonomic voters in swing states. And furthermore I felt as if I wasn't truly ready to leave the fellowship that I had grown to love back home.
Did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts
Hot ashes for trees
Hot air for a cool breeze
Cold comfort for change
Did you exchange
A walk on part in a war
for a lead role in a cage.
Gradually, I found some people I could talk to, and started to settle in. And this blog and the people I met on it helped greatly. It filled in some spaces, and gave me a place to challenge myself as a writer. It was also another phase (no clue which one) in my growing dependancy on the internet, which became my primary means of communication. The recent trend shows, as I've mentioned, that the people I'm in contact with the most, including those I've met in person and those I haven't, I speak with for the most part solely on the internet. And thus it's easy to be disconnected. People fade from the radar all the time. Some more inexplicably than others, such as a friend I made over the summer when I was doing community theater who for no apparent reason hasn't spoken to me in months. I didn't stop talking, of course. And she didn't block me or anything. Just stopped responding. Irksome. Especially given that this time around I have no connection to the place I'm taking classes and tenuous connection at best to those I take classes with. Missed a hell of a lot of my writing class and it made no difference. There's a paralell here, and if I'm hashing this out a bit methodically it's because it's something about myself I'm just now working out. You're witnessing it firsthand, actually. I don't abide well with detatchment. Not that I'm obsessively attatched to every friend I have, it's that a vacuum, well, sucks.
How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fishbowl
Year after year
Runnin' over the same old ground
What have we found
The same old fear
Wish you were here
Of course, it all passes.
Lyrics... well I sort of hope you know what they are. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out what the deal is with the title.
I just now realized that I've been neglecting Darfur: An Unforgiveable Hell on Earth. The site, that is. Every time I do end up discussing things with fellow students it comes up. I'm going to go ahead and add this to the sidebar right now so I don't forget.
So yeah. This was yet another long one. I was planning on something light and entertaining. I had something specific in mind actually. I'll still do it, but it's not going up here, because I just realized that it's perfect for Absurdity Jam. Speaking of which, anyone who'd like to be a member just ask, I think.
Is that it? I think it is. In any case, I need to go hit the library. If you made it this far, I hope you have a great day. Same goes if you didn't make it this far, but you really have no way of knowing that, huh? If you gave up early, my good intentions for you are a secret. Muahahahahahaha...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So there hasn't been anything here since Monday. To tell the truth I don't know why. I've been present about the internets; just quiet. It may be that I've as the Websnark (who I hardly ever mention here but is a fantastic writer. The only problem is that the topic of his site is webcomics, a matter that's, well, rather esoteric ;) and of little interest to many of you) makes reference to, gone tharn for a couple of days.
Remember Watership Down? It's the rabbit's term for the phenomenon that occurs when the fight or flight reflex is overwhelmed and they shut down and their only hope for survival is that the hawk doesn't notice them.
Am I about to take the hard fall from a looming shadow? I don't think so. But one can never be certain of these things. I mean, I did get photographed by a private snoop today. True story. I was walking along Revere Beach with my three [lovely] aunts (not to say that they are my only aunts or even my only lovely aunts, but they do happen to be the only lovely aunts of mine that I was walking along the beach with). A man in a leather jacket holding a camera appeared in front of us on the sidewalk I don't know how many times he clicked the shutter (ok so in truth I don't definitively know that he even clicked it once) but if he took a single shot then I'm certain he focused in on each of us at least once. No clue what to make of this. It's creepy as all hell and I wonder if maybe this blog has something to do with it. Of course, it could be nothing. Because if someone was tailing me it would be pretty fucking amateurish of them to make themselves visible.
It's a hell of a coincidenc, given that I was pretty much in the perfect frame of mind to freak out about that shit. I'm hardly paranoid as a matter of habit, but were paranoia to strike me the sort of mood I've been in today would certainly favor it. I think I can define it now, actually.
This is exactly how I felt during my sophomore year in high school, the year I was formally diagnosed with ADD, and the year I almost flunked out due to, among other things, extreme chemical imbalance that stemmed from a number of causes (Fuck you, Tom Cruise). One was most certainly the ADD. And of course, due to a number of factors, my size, my strange-ish metabolism, it was hard to discern the proper dosage of medication. The experimentation wasn't my favorite process in the world. Another was what was probably an undiagnosed case of depression. Causes there? Can't say for certain. I think that part of it had to do with my grandfather's death the previous year, and maybe another bit had to do with finding out that a friend from grade school had fallen in with a gang, but that was hardly all of it. And also, this was the year that 9/11 happened. I knew that the man with the button couldn't be trusted. Didn't have proof; that didn't come until later. But suffice to say, in the state of mind I was in this was a bad scene. And, given the nature of the events, I was hardly going to bitch about how it hit me, because I recognized that in perspective that shit was trivial. My father knew though. Sat me down and tried to reassure me. He said, "we're going to get them." I vaguely remember someone else saying as much.
Ha fucking ha.
But that wasn't it, either. Even more was piled on. English class. Great teacher. The material? Pretty much the cream of the crop of depressing books by American authors. Earnest Hemmingway's Farewell To Arms. F Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman. And of course, JD Sallinger's Catcher in the Rye.
The silver lining was that my creativity took a serious upshot. I wrote some good poetry. Not high school poetry either. Good poetry, and this coming from people who knew what they were talking about. The problem is I can't seem to find any of it.
I was also experiencing a feeling of overarching detatchment. I felt disconnected from my school as this was also the year I decided I wouldn't be getting confirmed as a Catholic. I was disconnected from my friends; had few people I was good friends with at school and an entire hometown full of lost or fading contacts. And my situation at home was stressed by my lackluster performance at a school my parents were paying me to go to.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail
A smile from a veil
Do you think you can tell
It passed, eventually. I was able to pull my grades out of the fire and didn't even end up needing to go to summer school. And the next year I found a home within the school in the theater, and the others in the Dramatics Society became a sort of second family. Hadn't completely kicked my problems, but I'd taken some steps in the right direction. Of course, I hadn't addressed everything...
I was in a similar but less severe situation when I first started this blog. New school, that at the time didn't seem to be capable of presenting and intellectual challenge. The one person I could relate to I fell off the deep end for. And the results were, well, confusing. And that fucker in chief went and got himself re-elected by appealing to the fear and loathing of the autonomic voters in swing states. And furthermore I felt as if I wasn't truly ready to leave the fellowship that I had grown to love back home.
Did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts
Hot ashes for trees
Hot air for a cool breeze
Cold comfort for change
Did you exchange
A walk on part in a war
for a lead role in a cage.
Gradually, I found some people I could talk to, and started to settle in. And this blog and the people I met on it helped greatly. It filled in some spaces, and gave me a place to challenge myself as a writer. It was also another phase (no clue which one) in my growing dependancy on the internet, which became my primary means of communication. The recent trend shows, as I've mentioned, that the people I'm in contact with the most, including those I've met in person and those I haven't, I speak with for the most part solely on the internet. And thus it's easy to be disconnected. People fade from the radar all the time. Some more inexplicably than others, such as a friend I made over the summer when I was doing community theater who for no apparent reason hasn't spoken to me in months. I didn't stop talking, of course. And she didn't block me or anything. Just stopped responding. Irksome. Especially given that this time around I have no connection to the place I'm taking classes and tenuous connection at best to those I take classes with. Missed a hell of a lot of my writing class and it made no difference. There's a paralell here, and if I'm hashing this out a bit methodically it's because it's something about myself I'm just now working out. You're witnessing it firsthand, actually. I don't abide well with detatchment. Not that I'm obsessively attatched to every friend I have, it's that a vacuum, well, sucks.
How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fishbowl
Year after year
Runnin' over the same old ground
What have we found
The same old fear
Wish you were here
Of course, it all passes.
Lyrics... well I sort of hope you know what they are. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out what the deal is with the title.
I just now realized that I've been neglecting Darfur: An Unforgiveable Hell on Earth. The site, that is. Every time I do end up discussing things with fellow students it comes up. I'm going to go ahead and add this to the sidebar right now so I don't forget.
So yeah. This was yet another long one. I was planning on something light and entertaining. I had something specific in mind actually. I'll still do it, but it's not going up here, because I just realized that it's perfect for Absurdity Jam. Speaking of which, anyone who'd like to be a member just ask, I think.
Is that it? I think it is. In any case, I need to go hit the library. If you made it this far, I hope you have a great day. Same goes if you didn't make it this far, but you really have no way of knowing that, huh? If you gave up early, my good intentions for you are a secret. Muahahahahahaha...
Monday, April 24, 2006
We're gonna find out what it is all about...
The lovely and talented Shayna sang a song about me. It's just one of the many ways that crazy chick rocker spreads the love about the blogodrome. Between this, her interviews (it is an oversight that I failed to mention her most recent one, guest-starring the also wonderful Miz Bohemia), and all the rest, she's always over there making someone feel special. I love that I even know her, let alone that every once in a while I fall under her spotlight.
If that sounds at all fruity you should know that I'm feeling lightheaded and yet not tired. This may just shape up to be an interesting night.
And now for an introspective rant. Yeah, I know. What else is new. Not quite sure where or how long this is going to take me.
It's kind of weird. I've often made note that nothing goes on in my area during the hours that I prefer to be awake, but I'm wondering if I wouldn't be spending all this time on my computer anyways. It's a weird thing about the way my head works. I'm always, always in a better state of mind when I know I could be doing something else. That's why much of my time in school sucked. Because of my, well, extemporaneous nature to put an overwhelmingly positive spin on it, I was told as a tiny thing to do my homework as soon as I got home and that I could do nothing else until it was done. I suppose it was a good enough thought. And hell, I attribute most of the things I consider worthy about myself that I wasn't born with to my past as a social cripple (the inevitable result of being cooped up inside all day not doing homework). It just sucked then was all.
But where was I? Oh right. Nothing to do. My late night coffee buddy's work schedule changed and our rendez-vous... um, whatever the plural form of that is (Mrs. Roberts, I'm sorry. You were a good French teacher, honest. I just never used a single goddamned thing you taught me and here we are). whatever. they're toast. null and void. No longer part of the regularly scheduled program. Oh right. That reminds me. There may be a concrete and predictable end to this. Maybe when Cooper signs on, if Cooper signs on. Then again I may just leave it open. All things are possible.
Music playing. The sibling sitting next to me, at another computer, just put on Dark Side of the Moon. Took me I think seven years to get him to enjoy good music. And now all he seems to play is Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, and Led Zepplin. I'm not complaining. They're awesome. And if nothing else the redundancy will force me to expand my tastes. Speaking of which I played my friend's album earlier today. She sounds better live, of course, but so does everyone. Then again maybe not as the people who tend to respond best to the howlings from my vocal folds have never heard me live. I'm not impugning your taste, I promise =P. Speaking of which I just got a call back from Daddy's Junky Music. The bad news is that my amp is toast. The good news is they're giving me store credit for it. The bad news is that I have to return the frikkin sweet loaner amp. The good news is that with the credit I can instead of an amp buy a gadget that runs my guitar through my computer. And to boot I just learned a song that wasn't written by Kurt Cobain. Not to knock Kurt of course. He's in the trio of my favorite dead musicians: Jimi Hendrix, Ray Charles, and Kurt Cobain. Not that he was a particularly great guitarist (hence it hasn't been much of a tall order to learn his songs) But damn could that dude write a lyric.
Anyways, the first song you hear from me with me on vox and guitar will be one that you've never even heard me make mention of.
But yeah. After midnight, I want to let it all hang down, but the fucking Man won't let me. Well, specifically, no one around here seems to be permissive. I just want one place. An all night cafe with a pool table and chill music and an open mic at least once a week. Maybe an arcade or something as well. And WiFi, so I can bring you all with me. There has got to be someone around here thinking the same as me. Blah.
I'm trying to structure this net habit of mine. make it more efficient. Organized my bookmarks. only need to click once to bring up all the blogs I read. once more to bring up the comics. RSS tells me which sites have updated. Don't check my own blog anymore. Don't have to. Turned on comment notification, and firefox tells me when a new email hits within three minutes. Shaves off some time for me to squander in a different way.
On the 21st, our favorite Cowgirl, who can it seems think of 15 readily availible and quite impossible to refute reasons to date her, made mention that her birthday was "in four days" Well, it's been the 25th over here for an hour and a half, and I believe the esteemed Cowgirl operates on Central Time, so it follows that it's been her birthday for a half an hour or so I think. In any case, I've been hammering away at these keys on and off for at least that long so Cowgirl I want you to pretend that I wished you a Happy Birthday way up at the top of this post. I also want you to imagine that I'm playing a distorted "Happy Birthday" on Ophelia. I cant, of course, because I don't have the (much) aforementioned gadget yet. Of course it'd get redundant if I did that for everyone's birthday. Unless of course I played it noticeably different each time. Well, in the words of Ted Kennedy, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
*puts on a pot of coffee*
I swear that the sixth scoop I dumped in there made a sound like "six." Maybe coffee wasn't such a great idea. Whatever. As Pia keeps reminding me, I turn 20 soon. 20 is still young enough to engage in some self-destructive behavior without committing fully to it. I think. And I'm not even quite there yet. Samantha, who to my utter distress hasn't been around in a while, told me about a year ago that 20 isn't really a big deal. I think I wouldn't mind it if my age wasn't a big deal... And not that I don't love hearing how surprised some of you (this would be you, Pia, Shayna, and Miz B) are that I'm as young as I am. It's that I'm sick and tired of being castigated for it. Heh. Well Coop, I was able to work it in before you.
Earth-toned equatorial analeptic, fill me. Vivify me. No sleep shall come ere the sun rise. The consumption fuels. It takes, it gives, it resets.
Flickering pixels on the screen. Entertainment from across the pond. Speculative fiction. Time Travel. My attention is demanded.
Later.
If that sounds at all fruity you should know that I'm feeling lightheaded and yet not tired. This may just shape up to be an interesting night.
And now for an introspective rant. Yeah, I know. What else is new. Not quite sure where or how long this is going to take me.
It's kind of weird. I've often made note that nothing goes on in my area during the hours that I prefer to be awake, but I'm wondering if I wouldn't be spending all this time on my computer anyways. It's a weird thing about the way my head works. I'm always, always in a better state of mind when I know I could be doing something else. That's why much of my time in school sucked. Because of my, well, extemporaneous nature to put an overwhelmingly positive spin on it, I was told as a tiny thing to do my homework as soon as I got home and that I could do nothing else until it was done. I suppose it was a good enough thought. And hell, I attribute most of the things I consider worthy about myself that I wasn't born with to my past as a social cripple (the inevitable result of being cooped up inside all day not doing homework). It just sucked then was all.
But where was I? Oh right. Nothing to do. My late night coffee buddy's work schedule changed and our rendez-vous... um, whatever the plural form of that is (Mrs. Roberts, I'm sorry. You were a good French teacher, honest. I just never used a single goddamned thing you taught me and here we are). whatever. they're toast. null and void. No longer part of the regularly scheduled program. Oh right. That reminds me. There may be a concrete and predictable end to this. Maybe when Cooper signs on, if Cooper signs on. Then again I may just leave it open. All things are possible.
Music playing. The sibling sitting next to me, at another computer, just put on Dark Side of the Moon. Took me I think seven years to get him to enjoy good music. And now all he seems to play is Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, and Led Zepplin. I'm not complaining. They're awesome. And if nothing else the redundancy will force me to expand my tastes. Speaking of which I played my friend's album earlier today. She sounds better live, of course, but so does everyone. Then again maybe not as the people who tend to respond best to the howlings from my vocal folds have never heard me live. I'm not impugning your taste, I promise =P. Speaking of which I just got a call back from Daddy's Junky Music. The bad news is that my amp is toast. The good news is they're giving me store credit for it. The bad news is that I have to return the frikkin sweet loaner amp. The good news is that with the credit I can instead of an amp buy a gadget that runs my guitar through my computer. And to boot I just learned a song that wasn't written by Kurt Cobain. Not to knock Kurt of course. He's in the trio of my favorite dead musicians: Jimi Hendrix, Ray Charles, and Kurt Cobain. Not that he was a particularly great guitarist (hence it hasn't been much of a tall order to learn his songs) But damn could that dude write a lyric.
Anyways, the first song you hear from me with me on vox and guitar will be one that you've never even heard me make mention of.
But yeah. After midnight, I want to let it all hang down, but the fucking Man won't let me. Well, specifically, no one around here seems to be permissive. I just want one place. An all night cafe with a pool table and chill music and an open mic at least once a week. Maybe an arcade or something as well. And WiFi, so I can bring you all with me. There has got to be someone around here thinking the same as me. Blah.
I'm trying to structure this net habit of mine. make it more efficient. Organized my bookmarks. only need to click once to bring up all the blogs I read. once more to bring up the comics. RSS tells me which sites have updated. Don't check my own blog anymore. Don't have to. Turned on comment notification, and firefox tells me when a new email hits within three minutes. Shaves off some time for me to squander in a different way.
On the 21st, our favorite Cowgirl, who can it seems think of 15 readily availible and quite impossible to refute reasons to date her, made mention that her birthday was "in four days" Well, it's been the 25th over here for an hour and a half, and I believe the esteemed Cowgirl operates on Central Time, so it follows that it's been her birthday for a half an hour or so I think. In any case, I've been hammering away at these keys on and off for at least that long so Cowgirl I want you to pretend that I wished you a Happy Birthday way up at the top of this post. I also want you to imagine that I'm playing a distorted "Happy Birthday" on Ophelia. I cant, of course, because I don't have the (much) aforementioned gadget yet. Of course it'd get redundant if I did that for everyone's birthday. Unless of course I played it noticeably different each time. Well, in the words of Ted Kennedy, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
*puts on a pot of coffee*
I swear that the sixth scoop I dumped in there made a sound like "six." Maybe coffee wasn't such a great idea. Whatever. As Pia keeps reminding me, I turn 20 soon. 20 is still young enough to engage in some self-destructive behavior without committing fully to it. I think. And I'm not even quite there yet. Samantha, who to my utter distress hasn't been around in a while, told me about a year ago that 20 isn't really a big deal. I think I wouldn't mind it if my age wasn't a big deal... And not that I don't love hearing how surprised some of you (this would be you, Pia, Shayna, and Miz B) are that I'm as young as I am. It's that I'm sick and tired of being castigated for it. Heh. Well Coop, I was able to work it in before you.
Earth-toned equatorial analeptic, fill me. Vivify me. No sleep shall come ere the sun rise. The consumption fuels. It takes, it gives, it resets.
Flickering pixels on the screen. Entertainment from across the pond. Speculative fiction. Time Travel. My attention is demanded.
Later.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
What follows is not a happy post, and I'd hate to think that I was getting any of you down. So, before that:
Congrats to Shayna on hitting the 10,000 visitor mark. Apparantly I was the one who pushed the counter over. And for this I'm going to be rewarded, she says, with a song or poem in my honor. As is to be expected, I quiver with anticipation. Can't say enough about her.
Cowgirl has made a noble contribution to the recent torrent of sexy posts circulating. I'm fairly certain that this recent informal meme has everything to do with you coming back, Tran. Much thanks ^_^
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Reports from the Vatican are suggesting that the Holy See may be on the verge of saying something about sex that isn't totally shitbrained. I suppose that commendations are due to those who have been pushing for this for years, but in general? This shit was needed twenty-five fucking years ago. 25 million people have burned while Rome was fiddling. Unnacceptable.
I submit that this case is enough to declare any Roman Catholic doctrine regarding sex to be without credibility.
Simple logic. Abstinence and condoms are the only two effective means of preventing the spread of HIV. While condoms only have 80% effectiveness in this area, teaching abstinence has never stopped people from having sex. It follows that in order to curb the flow of AIDS, condoms must be used. What does it say about Roman Catholic theology as a feild of study when being knowledgeable about it makes you signifigantly less likely to figure that out?
It's a matter of public record that I have a problem with religion. The reason is the palpable harm that has been caused to so many over the years due to the preference for dogma over provable fact that exists on at least some small level in just about every organized religion. I recognize and embrace that, as Shakespeare said, "there is more in heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy." And I have no qualms about how others account for that gap. The line I draw is when harm is done to others. When that line is crossed I make no apologies.
Congrats to Shayna on hitting the 10,000 visitor mark. Apparantly I was the one who pushed the counter over. And for this I'm going to be rewarded, she says, with a song or poem in my honor. As is to be expected, I quiver with anticipation. Can't say enough about her.
Cowgirl has made a noble contribution to the recent torrent of sexy posts circulating. I'm fairly certain that this recent informal meme has everything to do with you coming back, Tran. Much thanks ^_^
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reports from the Vatican are suggesting that the Holy See may be on the verge of saying something about sex that isn't totally shitbrained. I suppose that commendations are due to those who have been pushing for this for years, but in general? This shit was needed twenty-five fucking years ago. 25 million people have burned while Rome was fiddling. Unnacceptable.
I submit that this case is enough to declare any Roman Catholic doctrine regarding sex to be without credibility.
Simple logic. Abstinence and condoms are the only two effective means of preventing the spread of HIV. While condoms only have 80% effectiveness in this area, teaching abstinence has never stopped people from having sex. It follows that in order to curb the flow of AIDS, condoms must be used. What does it say about Roman Catholic theology as a feild of study when being knowledgeable about it makes you signifigantly less likely to figure that out?
It's a matter of public record that I have a problem with religion. The reason is the palpable harm that has been caused to so many over the years due to the preference for dogma over provable fact that exists on at least some small level in just about every organized religion. I recognize and embrace that, as Shakespeare said, "there is more in heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy." And I have no qualms about how others account for that gap. The line I draw is when harm is done to others. When that line is crossed I make no apologies.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Cast your dancing spell my way; I promise to go under it
Congrats to Ryan and Kate who got married earlier today. Not that either will likely ever see this space. The former happens to be my cousin, and given just how awesome the latter is, I couldn't be happier for him. Wasn't invited to the reception. Understandable. Accomodating an extended family like the one of which I am a part is a tall order. Those of us who went to the chapel but not the reception instead held a dinner in their honor at a nearby Bertucci's, whose brick oven pizza is not normally known by me to be particularly pleasing, but I suppose today was the exception. Lots of little chilluns there, making noise and climbing all over their tallest cousin. Good times, all in all.
Saw an old friend give a very small concert on Friday night. She invited 200 people, and like half a dozen showed up. which is actually good, because not many more would have fit in the yoga studio where it turned out the engagement was. That's what "performance space" constitutes here in the suburban wasteland to the north of Boston. It was hidden away in an obscure building. Were I not armed with the street number, I'd have stood no chance of finding it.
Now, normally I avoid "pop" music that consists of one person with a microphone singing to canned music. But Amy puts out a good brand I think. She writes her own songs, which is a breath of fresh air. And she's got hell of stage presence, which I feel qualified to evaluate as an actor.
I hadn't seen her since eighth grade. Never thought of her as a pop star back then. But there's no mistaking it now. It was much cool seeing her again, and moreso that I'm in contact with her in a general sense again. Also cool was that there were people there I didn't know who recognized me from the play I did last summer. I neglected to ask them if they liked it, and they didn't offer it up. I was tempted to pull a Mitch Hedburg and walk away, then come back and say, "hey, I saw you a couple of minutes ago, in the hallway! You were great!"
So as I left, she gave me a signed copy of her album, and urged me to see some of her shows in the summer. I think I will.
Saw an old friend give a very small concert on Friday night. She invited 200 people, and like half a dozen showed up. which is actually good, because not many more would have fit in the yoga studio where it turned out the engagement was. That's what "performance space" constitutes here in the suburban wasteland to the north of Boston. It was hidden away in an obscure building. Were I not armed with the street number, I'd have stood no chance of finding it.
Now, normally I avoid "pop" music that consists of one person with a microphone singing to canned music. But Amy puts out a good brand I think. She writes her own songs, which is a breath of fresh air. And she's got hell of stage presence, which I feel qualified to evaluate as an actor.
I hadn't seen her since eighth grade. Never thought of her as a pop star back then. But there's no mistaking it now. It was much cool seeing her again, and moreso that I'm in contact with her in a general sense again. Also cool was that there were people there I didn't know who recognized me from the play I did last summer. I neglected to ask them if they liked it, and they didn't offer it up. I was tempted to pull a Mitch Hedburg and walk away, then come back and say, "hey, I saw you a couple of minutes ago, in the hallway! You were great!"
So as I left, she gave me a signed copy of her album, and urged me to see some of her shows in the summer. I think I will.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl...
Editorial note: Before we proceed with what is an if not disgruntled, then at the very least far from being gruntled discussion of China, we (the editorial we, which Mark Twain said ought only be used by editors and people with tapeworms. We aren't sure if we fall into either category, but I doubt Mr. Twain would be too heavily offended) would like to point out a couple of things around the blogodrome. We were heavily amused by the resident information science professional's excursion in the wilderness with a lesbian couple. High-fives are most certainly in order, and will be delivered as soon as the logistics are worked out. We are furthermore humbly flattered to have been included in the resident rock star's comprehensive list of online mind candy, which seems only to be inaccurate as it, in all modesty, doesn't include her name, which is understandable, as linking to ones own blog does seem rather pointless. That bit of buisiness aside, here follows a far less pleasant matter.
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I guess the president of China was displeased with his reception here. I'm sorry sir, would you like your tea with one lump of "fuck you," or two?
It's a fucked up world where this guy gets a 21 gun salute. And yet, I guess on some level it's necessary. Which is even more fucked up. We're piss scared of China right now. They're swiftly moving towards superpower status in a world where we're used to being the only country that term applied to. They've got the largest standing army in human history, which yes, is only a direct threat if they obtain the means to mobilize it, but as it exists now it's still all kinds of ominous. Of course, our cooperation with this asshole is another example of what has been made abundantly clear by the example of Iraq; We take a firm stand on human rights... when it's convenient.
The thing is? We are absolutely responsible for China's position and assumed license to not give a damn about human rights, because we knew about all of this all along and yet we still traded with them. We didn't need to, really, but we did because the profit margins were better and now all of a sudden our economy is in a bind and look who's got their hands on our ankles.
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
Speaking of which, Yahoo has been implicated in handing the user information of a pro-democracy Chinese citizen, who was summarily jailed, to the government. Note that a public outcry here has not been forthcoming, despite the media crucifixion that Google endured for their cooperation with censorship laws. I'll restate: They caught flak because they refused to do here what Yahoo did over there. Right-wingers would have you believe that there's a liberal bias in the media, but a simple analysis of this situation soundly trumps that. Here are two companies who run a search engine service. Both wanted a market in China. One complied with censorship laws over there and refused to turn over user data to the US Justice Department. Another complied with the US Justice Department here, and help jail a man for democracy advocacy over there. Which one got buried by bad publicity and saw a huge dip in profits?
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I guess the president of China was displeased with his reception here. I'm sorry sir, would you like your tea with one lump of "fuck you," or two?
It's a fucked up world where this guy gets a 21 gun salute. And yet, I guess on some level it's necessary. Which is even more fucked up. We're piss scared of China right now. They're swiftly moving towards superpower status in a world where we're used to being the only country that term applied to. They've got the largest standing army in human history, which yes, is only a direct threat if they obtain the means to mobilize it, but as it exists now it's still all kinds of ominous. Of course, our cooperation with this asshole is another example of what has been made abundantly clear by the example of Iraq; We take a firm stand on human rights... when it's convenient.
The thing is? We are absolutely responsible for China's position and assumed license to not give a damn about human rights, because we knew about all of this all along and yet we still traded with them. We didn't need to, really, but we did because the profit margins were better and now all of a sudden our economy is in a bind and look who's got their hands on our ankles.
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
Speaking of which, Yahoo has been implicated in handing the user information of a pro-democracy Chinese citizen, who was summarily jailed, to the government. Note that a public outcry here has not been forthcoming, despite the media crucifixion that Google endured for their cooperation with censorship laws. I'll restate: They caught flak because they refused to do here what Yahoo did over there. Right-wingers would have you believe that there's a liberal bias in the media, but a simple analysis of this situation soundly trumps that. Here are two companies who run a search engine service. Both wanted a market in China. One complied with censorship laws over there and refused to turn over user data to the US Justice Department. Another complied with the US Justice Department here, and help jail a man for democracy advocacy over there. Which one got buried by bad publicity and saw a huge dip in profits?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
It's allright, ma
Caught Boston Legal tonight. Almost never catch it live anymore. I download nowadays. Miz B, if you're reading this I urge you to see this coming episode (Pia tells me you get it a day late). There's a part of it that reminded me quite much of you.
I'm always one to point you all towards web-based entertainment, but I've got to warn you that in this instance the thing I'm linking you towards is all manner of creepifying. So I give you, with due warning, Salad Fingers. Proceed with caution.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
I hope against hope that Bush's refusal to rule out a nuclear attack is just posturing. Sadly, If I was going to cast a vote for, "most likely to be the only person to use nuclear weapons after we became fully aware of their horrors" It'd have to be that asshole.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
Cooper launched a new website recently about the crisis in Darfur. Despite my regular trawling of news sites I was unaware of this disaster until I ran into Cooper here in the blogodrome, which is a credit to her but a grim mark on our national consciousness. by all means read up.
As for me, I've got a film shoot at 9:30 and then I'm off to spend the day with some dear friends of mine, so I'm going to turn in early *grins*
Lyrics courtesy of the great Bob Dylan
I'm always one to point you all towards web-based entertainment, but I've got to warn you that in this instance the thing I'm linking you towards is all manner of creepifying. So I give you, with due warning, Salad Fingers. Proceed with caution.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
I hope against hope that Bush's refusal to rule out a nuclear attack is just posturing. Sadly, If I was going to cast a vote for, "most likely to be the only person to use nuclear weapons after we became fully aware of their horrors" It'd have to be that asshole.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
Cooper launched a new website recently about the crisis in Darfur. Despite my regular trawling of news sites I was unaware of this disaster until I ran into Cooper here in the blogodrome, which is a credit to her but a grim mark on our national consciousness. by all means read up.
As for me, I've got a film shoot at 9:30 and then I'm off to spend the day with some dear friends of mine, so I'm going to turn in early *grins*
Lyrics courtesy of the great Bob Dylan
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Easter Excursions, sort of.
A note before I begin this particular excursion, or whatever the bloody fuck one might choose to call such a thing. Thanks to everyone who flocked here to assure me of my identity. Wasn't looking for it--I'm as certain as I can be about anything as to where exactly I stand with the matter-- but it's more than welcome. Replies to individual comments can be found below.
I've been starting to post for the last 24 hours, but have been interrupted by, in chronological order, having to go to my cousin's party celebrating his promotion, getting whisked out for coffee, sleeping, sleeping again (the first time I woke up didn't work), and then peeling the potatoes for dinner.
So yeah. I'm not exactly reliable hereabouts, but at least in this instance I had a reason. Of course, over at Courting Destiny you can pretty much guess that there's going to be something even if Pia says she's taking a break. And breaking that word is the closest to dishonesty you'll find there. But then again, you probably already know that. Anyways, She's got some more in the way of publicity brewing over at her site.
Today, as it happens, is Easter, after Estora, goddess of fertility. Hence the eggs, and the rabbits. And I suppose the chocolate as well, as it's considered by many to be an aphrodisiac.
It occurs to me that I've thus far gotten the celebration of this holiday all wrong.
Oh! before I forget--and yes, it is the fertility aspect that reminds me-- Transcience has returned.
And now that I'm mentioning other bloggers, I hear that Alice has been catching some flak about something she wrote about this God guy. I bet those people never read this. You're always hogging the trolls, m'dear.
Our very own Professional speaks of fair-trade joe, beautiful women, and cyber-stalkers. I swear Jason, as soon as I figure out how I've managed to be handsome and brilliant and yet left alone, I'll help a blogga out.
Miz B lets us in on a bit more of her world. I for one am always better for the visit.
Patriotic Cowgirl has changed her decor. I gotta tell ya, hon, between you and Pia I'd gotten used to the pink. This new scheme might take a while for me. But then again the same can be said for many of the blogs among that prestigious list to the right.
Is this post pretty much a filibuster? Yes. Yes it is. Forgive me. I just don't have much to say at the moment. And I know that just about everyone who reads me also reads just about everyone else who reads me, but whatev.
Happy Easter to those who celebrate, Happy Sunday to those who don't. I hope that either way you got ahold of some of that candy.
I've been starting to post for the last 24 hours, but have been interrupted by, in chronological order, having to go to my cousin's party celebrating his promotion, getting whisked out for coffee, sleeping, sleeping again (the first time I woke up didn't work), and then peeling the potatoes for dinner.
So yeah. I'm not exactly reliable hereabouts, but at least in this instance I had a reason. Of course, over at Courting Destiny you can pretty much guess that there's going to be something even if Pia says she's taking a break. And breaking that word is the closest to dishonesty you'll find there. But then again, you probably already know that. Anyways, She's got some more in the way of publicity brewing over at her site.
Today, as it happens, is Easter, after Estora, goddess of fertility. Hence the eggs, and the rabbits. And I suppose the chocolate as well, as it's considered by many to be an aphrodisiac.
It occurs to me that I've thus far gotten the celebration of this holiday all wrong.
Oh! before I forget--and yes, it is the fertility aspect that reminds me-- Transcience has returned.
And now that I'm mentioning other bloggers, I hear that Alice has been catching some flak about something she wrote about this God guy. I bet those people never read this. You're always hogging the trolls, m'dear.
Our very own Professional speaks of fair-trade joe, beautiful women, and cyber-stalkers. I swear Jason, as soon as I figure out how I've managed to be handsome and brilliant and yet left alone, I'll help a blogga out.
Miz B lets us in on a bit more of her world. I for one am always better for the visit.
Patriotic Cowgirl has changed her decor. I gotta tell ya, hon, between you and Pia I'd gotten used to the pink. This new scheme might take a while for me. But then again the same can be said for many of the blogs among that prestigious list to the right.
And speaking of patriotism, we have Shayna telling us about why she's involved with Soldier's Angels. I can't say enough about her. That she is by her own description not a saint strips me of any such aspirations.
Is this post pretty much a filibuster? Yes. Yes it is. Forgive me. I just don't have much to say at the moment. And I know that just about everyone who reads me also reads just about everyone else who reads me, but whatev.
Happy Easter to those who celebrate, Happy Sunday to those who don't. I hope that either way you got ahold of some of that candy.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Is it just me?
The days since my last post have been days of drama where my net connection is concerned. And it turns out I may not be done tinkering, as apparently my router is cramping my speed. The problem with computers is that there seems to be no interest in making them work properly. In a sane world, if it was found that a router needed to be set differently to allow for maximum efficiency with one computer and multiple computers connected, respectively, it would have a device installed in it to switch settings when you put more computers onto it.
But then again, you don't need to look very far to see that we do not live in a sane world. And while one may, in passing, meet a sane person in it, or at least one who is sane in the ways that matter, it seems that if not every single person who makes decisions that effect our lives, then at least most, are off their rockers, out of their skulls, out to lunch, batshit insane, touched in the head, fucked 8 ways from Sunday, squikked, zany, balmy, flipped, gone bananas, lost their marbles, bonkers, cracked, flipped, loco, unhinged, screwy, nuts, or one ::item:: short of a ::group of or including said item::
Shayna has blogged on a telling example of this in her guest post over at Sar's.
A ban on sex toys. Either an attempt by a patriarchal society to enact a monopoly on genital stimulation or another salvo fired in the war on wanking. Either way, it sucks. I'm going to be dropping in on the brawl throughout its progression, so I'm going to leave my covering of the topic at that.
A friend of mine told me that I was born to be gay or bi. That I exhibit the qualities of every non-heterosexual person he's known. Wasn't quite sure what to say to that. I mean, I'm a theater person, so that's always taken as evidence right off the back, and doubly so given that there are quite a few musicals I like.
No class Friday. Think I'm going to take my guitar out to the park and sit by the hills and play. That's the one thing I regret about opting for an electric, but it's no great setback.
Oh right. Check this strip out. It's goddamned hilarious.
The people who did the actual study would have you believe that gamers are more likely to smoke pot, but in reality it said that more of them were polled to have "permissive attitudes" towards alcohol and marijuana. Moreover, they revealed no numbers, save for the number of people polled: 100. So to recap, College students like to play games, drink, and smoke weed. No shit.
Oh wait. Hold that. College students like to play games and are allright with people drinking and smoking weed. Someone was paid to find this out. Like, money.
(refers back to the list) batshit fucking loco. Ok, that wasn't there, but still. People out there? Could you try sucking a little less? Just a bit? Or hell, go nuts, but just keep it off of me, will ya?
But then again, you don't need to look very far to see that we do not live in a sane world. And while one may, in passing, meet a sane person in it, or at least one who is sane in the ways that matter, it seems that if not every single person who makes decisions that effect our lives, then at least most, are off their rockers, out of their skulls, out to lunch, batshit insane, touched in the head, fucked 8 ways from Sunday, squikked, zany, balmy, flipped, gone bananas, lost their marbles, bonkers, cracked, flipped, loco, unhinged, screwy, nuts, or one ::item:: short of a ::group of or including said item::
Shayna has blogged on a telling example of this in her guest post over at Sar's.
A ban on sex toys. Either an attempt by a patriarchal society to enact a monopoly on genital stimulation or another salvo fired in the war on wanking. Either way, it sucks. I'm going to be dropping in on the brawl throughout its progression, so I'm going to leave my covering of the topic at that.
A friend of mine told me that I was born to be gay or bi. That I exhibit the qualities of every non-heterosexual person he's known. Wasn't quite sure what to say to that. I mean, I'm a theater person, so that's always taken as evidence right off the back, and doubly so given that there are quite a few musicals I like.
No class Friday. Think I'm going to take my guitar out to the park and sit by the hills and play. That's the one thing I regret about opting for an electric, but it's no great setback.
Oh right. Check this strip out. It's goddamned hilarious.
The people who did the actual study would have you believe that gamers are more likely to smoke pot, but in reality it said that more of them were polled to have "permissive attitudes" towards alcohol and marijuana. Moreover, they revealed no numbers, save for the number of people polled: 100. So to recap, College students like to play games, drink, and smoke weed. No shit.
Oh wait. Hold that. College students like to play games and are allright with people drinking and smoking weed. Someone was paid to find this out. Like, money.
(refers back to the list) batshit fucking loco. Ok, that wasn't there, but still. People out there? Could you try sucking a little less? Just a bit? Or hell, go nuts, but just keep it off of me, will ya?
Monday, April 10, 2006
You should have seen; the curse that flew right by you
It's that time of year again. Apologies to non-baseball fans. No apologies to Yankees fans. Not in regards to this at least. I mean, if you were to trip over my rather large feet or what have you, yeah, you'd get an apology. You won't get one in regards to this post is what I mean. I think you knew that was what I meant all along. I hope you did. Otherwise I wonder what sort of image I put forth here.
Tessie is the Royal Rooter's rally cry
Tessie is the song they always sung
Tessie echoed April through October nights
After seranading Stahl, Dineed, and Young
You should have known that I was going to post about the Red Sox eventually. 5-1 coming out of the gates. Best season start since 1999. We won the opening game even though we fucking never win the opening game. Curt Schilling is back into his stuff. And though it seems like forever ago since he was pitching like Curt Schilling, Sox fans have been swiftly reminded that his stuff is good. And it only gets better down the stretch. Two new arms in the minors that are expected to be stars once they hit the big time, expected to be called up in the latter half of the season. One starting pitcher who's cutting his teeth by closing at the moment who's expected to be the best homegrown Red Sox pitcher since Roger Clemens, who himself has spoken with the Red Sox about signing on in May. And that's just the pitching.
Tessie is a maiden with a sparkling eye
Tessie is a maiden with a love
She doesn't know the meaning of a sigh
She's got a comment full of love.
We may not have bats as big as before, but we've still got two of the biggest in the game in Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, and the defense doesn't have a real weak link. The least skilled defender is Manny, and even he has been known to throw a hell of a lot of guys out. I wonder if this formula has ever been tried before. Seamless defense, overpowering pitching, and a batting order that includes the one dude who wins more games with his bat than anyone else in the league. (David Ortiz, the only hitter ever to record two gamewinning walk-off hits in the same calendar day) We're going to see a lot of games where they score only two runs and win the game. My guess is that means more walkoffs for Papi.
And sometimes when the game was on the line
Tessie allways carried them away
Up the road from Third Base to Huntington
The crowd would always sing and sway
The problem? I don't get the channel that plays the Sox.
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
It's weird, though. Time was, such a lack of access to my Sox would result in an ill-temperedness that would be hard to miss. Even in Chicago I was able to catch the odd game or so on ESPN, not to mention the fact that the period during which I couldn't watch them spanned maybe a month before the playoffs started and they were on TV without exception. And even then I was ornerous about it. Now? Not so much. And as a result, my bad mood has been replaced with guilt. As if I was away at school and had a girlfriend back home and I didn't write to her enough. As I type that I remember that I did have a certain someone (not going to say girlfriend because that wasn't the right word) back home I was writing to when the Sox were on their championship run. We IMed or spoke on the phone during every Red Sox game I did get to see while I was in Chicago. The Sox were something we connected over.
Tessie, nuff said McGreevey shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we'd never live without you
Tessie, you are the only, only, only
As coincidence would have it our... well ,whatever it is you would call it, ended before Boston was done celebrating. I had flown in to attend the celebrations. Turned out that while we had grown closer while I was away, I was still as awkward with her in person as I had always been. Go figure. Took a while for us to get back on good terms, but we did eventually. She remains one of my best friends. As it happens, I haven't used the title Best Friend in reference to anyone in specific for years. And I swear that has nothing to do with the fact that the last person I applied that title to was standing alongside the first kid to ever pull a knife on me when the fucker whipped it out.
Where was I? Oh yes
The Rooters showed up at the grounds one day
And they found their seats had all been sold
McGreevey led the charge into the park
Stormed the gates and put the game on hold
The Rooters gave the other team a dreadful fright
Boston's tenth man could not be wrong
Up from Third Base to Huntington
They sang another victory song
The other thing is, while here I am, posting on the Sox, you'll notice, if you don't take my word for it and actually care and look back on the archives, that I haven't said a damn word about them since last season. Not even on opening day. Previous to that I posted a ton about them. Have I changed? Well, I have changed in the past couple of years, there's no denying that (hell, earlier today... ok, yesterday, I ate and enjoyed a salad for the first time in my life), but do I love my Sox any less? Is it because after a drought that lasted longer than my grandfather's life, they finally won the damned Series? There certainly was a lot of speculation that the Red Sox would lose popularity without the myth of the Bambino to romanticize them.
Tessie, nuff said McGreevey shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we'd never live without you
Boston, you are the only, only, only...
Or is it that I've shed an unhealthy obsession? I've certainly been accused of being dangerously addicted to the Sox. But that mostly came from people who didn't know what it meant to be from Boston. And it's not like Ive gotten any more healthy in my decision making lately. I mean, here I am up way late at night with a class in the morning. And I've never known being passionate about something to be unhealthy.
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Red Sox, you are the only, only only...
Could be I'm just in a rut. Of course, that could be seen to describe my life over much of the life of this blog, and the record shows that I've been passionate for the Sox during most of the duration of my time here on the interwebs. Could always be a different manifestation of ruttiness than has been my custom. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel right.
Home opener's on Tuesday....
Tessie is the Royal Rooter's rally cry
Tessie is the song they always sung
Tessie echoed April through October nights
After seranading Stahl, Dineed, and Young
You should have known that I was going to post about the Red Sox eventually. 5-1 coming out of the gates. Best season start since 1999. We won the opening game even though we fucking never win the opening game. Curt Schilling is back into his stuff. And though it seems like forever ago since he was pitching like Curt Schilling, Sox fans have been swiftly reminded that his stuff is good. And it only gets better down the stretch. Two new arms in the minors that are expected to be stars once they hit the big time, expected to be called up in the latter half of the season. One starting pitcher who's cutting his teeth by closing at the moment who's expected to be the best homegrown Red Sox pitcher since Roger Clemens, who himself has spoken with the Red Sox about signing on in May. And that's just the pitching.
Tessie is a maiden with a sparkling eye
Tessie is a maiden with a love
She doesn't know the meaning of a sigh
She's got a comment full of love.
We may not have bats as big as before, but we've still got two of the biggest in the game in Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, and the defense doesn't have a real weak link. The least skilled defender is Manny, and even he has been known to throw a hell of a lot of guys out. I wonder if this formula has ever been tried before. Seamless defense, overpowering pitching, and a batting order that includes the one dude who wins more games with his bat than anyone else in the league. (David Ortiz, the only hitter ever to record two gamewinning walk-off hits in the same calendar day) We're going to see a lot of games where they score only two runs and win the game. My guess is that means more walkoffs for Papi.
And sometimes when the game was on the line
Tessie allways carried them away
Up the road from Third Base to Huntington
The crowd would always sing and sway
The problem? I don't get the channel that plays the Sox.
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
It's weird, though. Time was, such a lack of access to my Sox would result in an ill-temperedness that would be hard to miss. Even in Chicago I was able to catch the odd game or so on ESPN, not to mention the fact that the period during which I couldn't watch them spanned maybe a month before the playoffs started and they were on TV without exception. And even then I was ornerous about it. Now? Not so much. And as a result, my bad mood has been replaced with guilt. As if I was away at school and had a girlfriend back home and I didn't write to her enough. As I type that I remember that I did have a certain someone (not going to say girlfriend because that wasn't the right word) back home I was writing to when the Sox were on their championship run. We IMed or spoke on the phone during every Red Sox game I did get to see while I was in Chicago. The Sox were something we connected over.
Tessie, nuff said McGreevey shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we'd never live without you
Tessie, you are the only, only, only
As coincidence would have it our... well ,whatever it is you would call it, ended before Boston was done celebrating. I had flown in to attend the celebrations. Turned out that while we had grown closer while I was away, I was still as awkward with her in person as I had always been. Go figure. Took a while for us to get back on good terms, but we did eventually. She remains one of my best friends. As it happens, I haven't used the title Best Friend in reference to anyone in specific for years. And I swear that has nothing to do with the fact that the last person I applied that title to was standing alongside the first kid to ever pull a knife on me when the fucker whipped it out.
Where was I? Oh yes
The Rooters showed up at the grounds one day
And they found their seats had all been sold
McGreevey led the charge into the park
Stormed the gates and put the game on hold
The Rooters gave the other team a dreadful fright
Boston's tenth man could not be wrong
Up from Third Base to Huntington
They sang another victory song
The other thing is, while here I am, posting on the Sox, you'll notice, if you don't take my word for it and actually care and look back on the archives, that I haven't said a damn word about them since last season. Not even on opening day. Previous to that I posted a ton about them. Have I changed? Well, I have changed in the past couple of years, there's no denying that (hell, earlier today... ok, yesterday, I ate and enjoyed a salad for the first time in my life), but do I love my Sox any less? Is it because after a drought that lasted longer than my grandfather's life, they finally won the damned Series? There certainly was a lot of speculation that the Red Sox would lose popularity without the myth of the Bambino to romanticize them.
Tessie, nuff said McGreevey shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we'd never live without you
Boston, you are the only, only, only...
Or is it that I've shed an unhealthy obsession? I've certainly been accused of being dangerously addicted to the Sox. But that mostly came from people who didn't know what it meant to be from Boston. And it's not like Ive gotten any more healthy in my decision making lately. I mean, here I am up way late at night with a class in the morning. And I've never known being passionate about something to be unhealthy.
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Red Sox, you are the only, only only...
Could be I'm just in a rut. Of course, that could be seen to describe my life over much of the life of this blog, and the record shows that I've been passionate for the Sox during most of the duration of my time here on the interwebs. Could always be a different manifestation of ruttiness than has been my custom. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel right.
Home opener's on Tuesday....
Friday, April 07, 2006
Of protest and dishonor.
Before I dive into the subject I'm writing on tonight, I want to welcome everyone who got here from the link so generously provided from the Long Island Press'
COVER STORY ABOUT OUR OWN PIA SAVAGE
Also I want to wish a Happy Birthday to Sar on this lovely 4/7 and direct you to her appropriately themed gathering
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I want to talk about protests for a little bit. I make it no great secret that I am opposed to war as anything other than a last resort. I believe that due to the infamy of the Vietnam War and now the War in Iraq, we are less secure as a nation, because the thought of being shipped off to and perhaps killed in an unecessary war, that is fought in conflict with one's values, is causing people who would otherwise proudly enlist defend their country to have second thoughts. Even if one were to disregard the catastrophic toll in innocent lives, this much is clear: To rush to war; to engage in armed conflict under any circumstances other than when absolutely necessary, is to betray the honor of those who serve our country. The idea that such betrayal is inherently present in protest is a crock of bullshit, served up by those who mandate war, and some who stand to profit by it; a cowardly attempt to shame dissenters into silence.
That having been said, some protest does dishonor our soldiers. We've all heard of Cindy Sheehan. At first she seemed honorable. Or did to me at least. But at some point she became a bigger story than the men and women still fighting and dying in Iraq. And then we heard how she had yet to put a marker on her son's grave. In the end she was a godsend to the warmongers. She turned the debate away from the war proper, and allowed the right to use her as a straw man, and equated all who oppose the war to her disgrace.
But you don't need to make headlines to protest shamefully. One such occurance was related to me by my good friend Steve, who goes to the University of Chicago, where A student theater group known as "Naked Theater" dressed as Nazis in protest of Marine recruiters arriving on campus a few months ago. For the record, the act of protesting recruiters my support. I believe the tactics currently employed by military recruiters to be shameful. However, this particular protest was an utter disgrace. Allow me to deconstruct.
First of all, they were presenting a pretty obvious comparison there, and of people, not tactics. Quite simply, they were comparing the Marines to the Nazis. As a friend to one Marine and nephew of another, I find this to be horribly offensive. And let us not forget just how much of an affront the image of a gathering of Nazis is to anyone of Jewish heritage, and moreover to anyone who had to live through Nazi rule.
And even were one not to concern themselves with being offensive, it is well documented that invoking the Nazi party is a thoroughly ineffective way of making an argument, unless there is a direct correlation, and even then it's usually a bad idea. At best the pure sensationalism distracts from the matter at hand, and at its worst, potential sympathizers are alienated. To wit, Hunter S Thompson wrote in a column that the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal disgusted him more than the atrocities of the Holocaust. Now, I knew when I read the column that he never considered the prisoner abuse to be a more terrible crime against humanity; rather it was the idea that this sort of behavior was prevalent (and perhaps even mandated from above) in American POW camps that was so utterly loathsome. But that didn't stop Drudge from eating him for breakfast.
But that is neither here nor there. My point is that while we have the right to freedom of speech and assembly, we have the responsibility to exercise those rights with a modicum of dignity. And I'm not talking about strict rules, or in fact any concrete rules at all. I have gone on the record in support of nude protest, and I use the word fuck liberally and poetically in my written work.
So as I said, this protest happened about a month ago. And the Marine recruiters are due for another visit to the campus. The same group is now planning another protest. Before I describe it, I'd like to point out that I'm reminded of Malcolm X. Even back in the days when he preached that every white person was at their core evil, he withdrew from making public statements for a good while after he made the famous misstep of declaring the death of John F Kennedy to be justice. Now, he was put under pressure to do so, but that should not suggest that the gesture isn't a classy one. It's an example I try to live up to. When you open your mouth and something stupid or offensive comes out, you give pause before you speak on the matter again. In view of their grossly offensive display the previous time, I should like to have heard that the group would sit this one out.
Instead, they are planning a die-in. Basically, they douse themselves in stage blood and arrange themselves in the manner of a group of slain soldiers. Shock theater of a different sort. Not outright offensive per se, but consider that it's taking place on a college campus, where a pile of corpses would seem ridiculously out of place. In fact, if one didn't know better, they might laugh at it. I'm going to quote what my friend said in response.
Shock theater -- which is what you're proposing -- is and has always been very effective at castrating good ideas. I support protesting the Marines. Really I do. But if you want to be taken seriously, you have to learn the difference between pushing the edge and wanking off over the edge. Please. No Nazis. No stage blood. This world is ugly enough. If you want to take a stand and you want it to be effective, your presence is enough. Simply standing and holding a sign explaining why the Marines are a discriminatory organization (heterosexuals only plzkthx) would be direct. Holding a hug-in wherein you offer hugs to anyone who wants one to protest the overt violence of the Marine credo would be beautiful. Hell, how about a silent protest -- hold a sign telling the people who support peace that their silence speaks volumes, and that if they do not support the Marines that they should be utterly silent in their presence, and perhaps would they like to sign a petition?
If you want to make bad theater, I won't try to stop you. But if you're honestly concerned with getting your voice heard, understand that many people here stand with your position, and that you would gain a serious measure of respect -- at least in my eyes, and I suspect with a significant percentage of the school body -- if you chose instead to proceed with decorum in your stance against the Marines.
I didn't mention this before, but this is someone who I did theater with in high school. I've spoken with some reverence about the experience in this space. We both learned a great deal about getting a message across; how to use images. And there is a major problem with a mock death site. It has to do with what is known as the spectacular society. Essentially, a hostile image is presented in a softer light, and thus becomes less formidable. Softening the horrors of war by presenting them in fabrication is not only at cross-purposes with the goals of anti-war protest, it devalues the hardship and sacrifice of those who have had to endure those horrors. To properly understand the sacrifices that have been made to protect this country, and the senseless waste of life inherent in erroneous war, we must keep with us a sense of how ugly war is. In a time before mass media, such an image would be useful because it would have been the most honest one availible. But in a culture where fake violence is prevalent and often viewed without so much as a batted eyelash, what impact will fake fallen soldiers have? Such a visceral message is best left to media that can properly capture the true ugliness of it all.
Images of the Vietnam war were abundant as it was being fought. It was there for all to see, and it caused outrage. It seems that the one lesson that has been learned from Vietnam is not to provide fodder for it. We're aware of the numbers, but as for the reality behind them? We have no clue. For all we've heard of journalists embedded with the military in Iraq, this war has gone relatively unfilmed. We aren't being presented with the images necessary to know what is truly going on there. But that void is not and cannot be filled with a bunch of protesters playing dead. All that's communicated there is the idea that ones intent was to shock and awe. Hardly an effective way to protest this war.
All in all what one must remember as a protester, should one partake in or organize a protester, you do not merely represent yourself and your cause. You represent everyone who supports your cause. To reflect poorly upon your fellows is to damage your position as a whole. What is important is that ideas get across. In order for that to happen you first need to have some. Then you need to present them in a way that will invite others to join you.
The stakes are too high to alienate those who would support your cause.
The stakes are too high to put an axe in the hands of those who wish to shame us into abdicating our right to speak out.
The stakes are just too goddamned high to fuck this up.
COVER STORY ABOUT OUR OWN PIA SAVAGE
Also I want to wish a Happy Birthday to Sar on this lovely 4/7 and direct you to her appropriately themed gathering
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I want to talk about protests for a little bit. I make it no great secret that I am opposed to war as anything other than a last resort. I believe that due to the infamy of the Vietnam War and now the War in Iraq, we are less secure as a nation, because the thought of being shipped off to and perhaps killed in an unecessary war, that is fought in conflict with one's values, is causing people who would otherwise proudly enlist defend their country to have second thoughts. Even if one were to disregard the catastrophic toll in innocent lives, this much is clear: To rush to war; to engage in armed conflict under any circumstances other than when absolutely necessary, is to betray the honor of those who serve our country. The idea that such betrayal is inherently present in protest is a crock of bullshit, served up by those who mandate war, and some who stand to profit by it; a cowardly attempt to shame dissenters into silence.
That having been said, some protest does dishonor our soldiers. We've all heard of Cindy Sheehan. At first she seemed honorable. Or did to me at least. But at some point she became a bigger story than the men and women still fighting and dying in Iraq. And then we heard how she had yet to put a marker on her son's grave. In the end she was a godsend to the warmongers. She turned the debate away from the war proper, and allowed the right to use her as a straw man, and equated all who oppose the war to her disgrace.
But you don't need to make headlines to protest shamefully. One such occurance was related to me by my good friend Steve, who goes to the University of Chicago, where A student theater group known as "Naked Theater" dressed as Nazis in protest of Marine recruiters arriving on campus a few months ago. For the record, the act of protesting recruiters my support. I believe the tactics currently employed by military recruiters to be shameful. However, this particular protest was an utter disgrace. Allow me to deconstruct.
First of all, they were presenting a pretty obvious comparison there, and of people, not tactics. Quite simply, they were comparing the Marines to the Nazis. As a friend to one Marine and nephew of another, I find this to be horribly offensive. And let us not forget just how much of an affront the image of a gathering of Nazis is to anyone of Jewish heritage, and moreover to anyone who had to live through Nazi rule.
And even were one not to concern themselves with being offensive, it is well documented that invoking the Nazi party is a thoroughly ineffective way of making an argument, unless there is a direct correlation, and even then it's usually a bad idea. At best the pure sensationalism distracts from the matter at hand, and at its worst, potential sympathizers are alienated. To wit, Hunter S Thompson wrote in a column that the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal disgusted him more than the atrocities of the Holocaust. Now, I knew when I read the column that he never considered the prisoner abuse to be a more terrible crime against humanity; rather it was the idea that this sort of behavior was prevalent (and perhaps even mandated from above) in American POW camps that was so utterly loathsome. But that didn't stop Drudge from eating him for breakfast.
But that is neither here nor there. My point is that while we have the right to freedom of speech and assembly, we have the responsibility to exercise those rights with a modicum of dignity. And I'm not talking about strict rules, or in fact any concrete rules at all. I have gone on the record in support of nude protest, and I use the word fuck liberally and poetically in my written work.
So as I said, this protest happened about a month ago. And the Marine recruiters are due for another visit to the campus. The same group is now planning another protest. Before I describe it, I'd like to point out that I'm reminded of Malcolm X. Even back in the days when he preached that every white person was at their core evil, he withdrew from making public statements for a good while after he made the famous misstep of declaring the death of John F Kennedy to be justice. Now, he was put under pressure to do so, but that should not suggest that the gesture isn't a classy one. It's an example I try to live up to. When you open your mouth and something stupid or offensive comes out, you give pause before you speak on the matter again. In view of their grossly offensive display the previous time, I should like to have heard that the group would sit this one out.
Instead, they are planning a die-in. Basically, they douse themselves in stage blood and arrange themselves in the manner of a group of slain soldiers. Shock theater of a different sort. Not outright offensive per se, but consider that it's taking place on a college campus, where a pile of corpses would seem ridiculously out of place. In fact, if one didn't know better, they might laugh at it. I'm going to quote what my friend said in response.
Shock theater -- which is what you're proposing -- is and has always been very effective at castrating good ideas. I support protesting the Marines. Really I do. But if you want to be taken seriously, you have to learn the difference between pushing the edge and wanking off over the edge. Please. No Nazis. No stage blood. This world is ugly enough. If you want to take a stand and you want it to be effective, your presence is enough. Simply standing and holding a sign explaining why the Marines are a discriminatory organization (heterosexuals only plzkthx) would be direct. Holding a hug-in wherein you offer hugs to anyone who wants one to protest the overt violence of the Marine credo would be beautiful. Hell, how about a silent protest -- hold a sign telling the people who support peace that their silence speaks volumes, and that if they do not support the Marines that they should be utterly silent in their presence, and perhaps would they like to sign a petition?
If you want to make bad theater, I won't try to stop you. But if you're honestly concerned with getting your voice heard, understand that many people here stand with your position, and that you would gain a serious measure of respect -- at least in my eyes, and I suspect with a significant percentage of the school body -- if you chose instead to proceed with decorum in your stance against the Marines.
I didn't mention this before, but this is someone who I did theater with in high school. I've spoken with some reverence about the experience in this space. We both learned a great deal about getting a message across; how to use images. And there is a major problem with a mock death site. It has to do with what is known as the spectacular society. Essentially, a hostile image is presented in a softer light, and thus becomes less formidable. Softening the horrors of war by presenting them in fabrication is not only at cross-purposes with the goals of anti-war protest, it devalues the hardship and sacrifice of those who have had to endure those horrors. To properly understand the sacrifices that have been made to protect this country, and the senseless waste of life inherent in erroneous war, we must keep with us a sense of how ugly war is. In a time before mass media, such an image would be useful because it would have been the most honest one availible. But in a culture where fake violence is prevalent and often viewed without so much as a batted eyelash, what impact will fake fallen soldiers have? Such a visceral message is best left to media that can properly capture the true ugliness of it all.
Images of the Vietnam war were abundant as it was being fought. It was there for all to see, and it caused outrage. It seems that the one lesson that has been learned from Vietnam is not to provide fodder for it. We're aware of the numbers, but as for the reality behind them? We have no clue. For all we've heard of journalists embedded with the military in Iraq, this war has gone relatively unfilmed. We aren't being presented with the images necessary to know what is truly going on there. But that void is not and cannot be filled with a bunch of protesters playing dead. All that's communicated there is the idea that ones intent was to shock and awe. Hardly an effective way to protest this war.
All in all what one must remember as a protester, should one partake in or organize a protester, you do not merely represent yourself and your cause. You represent everyone who supports your cause. To reflect poorly upon your fellows is to damage your position as a whole. What is important is that ideas get across. In order for that to happen you first need to have some. Then you need to present them in a way that will invite others to join you.
The stakes are too high to alienate those who would support your cause.
The stakes are too high to put an axe in the hands of those who wish to shame us into abdicating our right to speak out.
The stakes are just too goddamned high to fuck this up.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Portents!
Here I am, posting in the morning again. I wanted to go live just as Pia's much-awaited surprise did, but I realized that real journalists don't post things at midnight. Which brings me to what exactly it is that I'm talking about. It's no great secret that we adore Pia here at Ramblings of an Idle Insomniac (wow, really need to change my blog title to something I can use in the editiorial without sounding clunky), and therefore, it is a great pleasure to announce:
Pia Savage on the cover of the Long Island press
squuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I have been dying to spill this one for it seems like months. I'll admit that a small part of this twitchy (squashed) impulse has had to do with my tiny part in the matter (read it! find out what the hell I'm talking about! go! now!)
Alice was quick to make note of it. I'm somewhat puzzled as to why I was questioned and she wasn't; I mean, she's actually living in New York... But I'm not sufficiently puzzled to drag anyone ever coals to get answers. That business is never good for PR anyways.
I'm damned proud of Pia. If there's anyone who deserves the press, it's her. Here's hoping this catches some eyes, and perhaps gets some ink in the shape of her name onto a fortuitous document, resulting in more paper, more ink, and an even cooler cover sitting on a well-exposed shelf at Barnes and Noble.
Unnecessarily oblique? Hell yes I am!
Kudos to April Jimenez as well. She wrote an excellent piece, and steered clear of the OMG BLOGS! squeaking that much of the MSM has handled the matter with. If by any chance you're reading this, April, it was great talking to ya.
This is going live right now. I have something else to post and it will appear below when it's done.
Pia Savage on the cover of the Long Island press
squuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I have been dying to spill this one for it seems like months. I'll admit that a small part of this twitchy (squashed) impulse has had to do with my tiny part in the matter (read it! find out what the hell I'm talking about! go! now!)
Alice was quick to make note of it. I'm somewhat puzzled as to why I was questioned and she wasn't; I mean, she's actually living in New York... But I'm not sufficiently puzzled to drag anyone ever coals to get answers. That business is never good for PR anyways.
I'm damned proud of Pia. If there's anyone who deserves the press, it's her. Here's hoping this catches some eyes, and perhaps gets some ink in the shape of her name onto a fortuitous document, resulting in more paper, more ink, and an even cooler cover sitting on a well-exposed shelf at Barnes and Noble.
Unnecessarily oblique? Hell yes I am!
Kudos to April Jimenez as well. She wrote an excellent piece, and steered clear of the OMG BLOGS! squeaking that much of the MSM has handled the matter with. If by any chance you're reading this, April, it was great talking to ya.
This is going live right now. I have something else to post and it will appear below when it's done.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Another daytime post. Feels weird.
Want to wish Shayna a happy belated birthday. She's at the beginning of the end of her twenties. It was a hell of a party. Sar's birthday comes in two days, Alice's a month and change thereafter, and mine close following
I answered the door the other day. Man with a clipboard. Never liked to see a clipboard on my doorstep. Probably makes me a hypocrite; I went door to door with a clipboard for a couple of weeks one summer. So I guess I owed this man a moment or so at least. It was a petition to put another name on the ballot in local elections. I'm all for it.
"What's he running on?"
"He's a Democrat"
"No, I mean what's his platform. What will he do if he's elected."
"Everything needed to better the lives of his constituents"
Fucker. If he'd given me a real answer, no matter what it was, I would have signed his petition.
I went bowling with a friend last night. I'd never done ten pin; only candlepin (endemic to New England. info found here if you're interested. Of course, when bowling occurs, The Big Lebowski is quoted. It's just what happens. What threw us off though was the guy who walked in during the game. Spitting image of The Dude. Only he's a cop. Weird.
On the way back we decided we'd write a play. Spur of the moment. Realized that we tend to have funny conversations and that it could be channeled into something performable. So my late night coffee runs are now going to have a purpose. Wonder if that detracts from them.
When I got back I watched three episodes of Penn and Teller's Bullshit! Going to hunt down more. Wish Showtime hadn't stopped them from tackling Scientology. Anyways, one of the episodes dealt with a topic of recent debate here in the blogosphere. That, coupled with some things that I've learned in my psychology class have given me the urge to reopen, but I'm abstaining for now.
Was going to write this post about twelve hours ago, but I caffeinecrashed. Turns out that's a danger when you hang out with someone you usually just get coffee with for a day.
Think I'll have something more to say tonight. Hope I do. Don't like to stay in silence.
See you all around.
I answered the door the other day. Man with a clipboard. Never liked to see a clipboard on my doorstep. Probably makes me a hypocrite; I went door to door with a clipboard for a couple of weeks one summer. So I guess I owed this man a moment or so at least. It was a petition to put another name on the ballot in local elections. I'm all for it.
"What's he running on?"
"He's a Democrat"
"No, I mean what's his platform. What will he do if he's elected."
"Everything needed to better the lives of his constituents"
Fucker. If he'd given me a real answer, no matter what it was, I would have signed his petition.
I went bowling with a friend last night. I'd never done ten pin; only candlepin (endemic to New England. info found here if you're interested. Of course, when bowling occurs, The Big Lebowski is quoted. It's just what happens. What threw us off though was the guy who walked in during the game. Spitting image of The Dude. Only he's a cop. Weird.
On the way back we decided we'd write a play. Spur of the moment. Realized that we tend to have funny conversations and that it could be channeled into something performable. So my late night coffee runs are now going to have a purpose. Wonder if that detracts from them.
When I got back I watched three episodes of Penn and Teller's Bullshit! Going to hunt down more. Wish Showtime hadn't stopped them from tackling Scientology. Anyways, one of the episodes dealt with a topic of recent debate here in the blogosphere. That, coupled with some things that I've learned in my psychology class have given me the urge to reopen, but I'm abstaining for now.
Was going to write this post about twelve hours ago, but I caffeinecrashed. Turns out that's a danger when you hang out with someone you usually just get coffee with for a day.
Think I'll have something more to say tonight. Hope I do. Don't like to stay in silence.
See you all around.
Monday, April 03, 2006
All the cool kids are doing it
Cross-posted at Bring it On
Anyone who's been around here for a while knows I'm not too fond of organized religion, and that I outright loathe the use of religion as a political tool. And not just because it caused the absolute fucking moron in the Oval Office to be re-elected. To put it bluntly, anyone who attributes a tragic event to God's wrath has no fucking place in the political arena, let alone alongside a major presidential candidate.
Luckily, this time around we don't have to deal with it. After all, they wouldn't support a Democrat if they were begged, and John McCain has gone on the record on, for instance, Jerry Fallwell, that he is an "agent of intolerance." So we should expect a 2008 Presidential election free of the targeted ignorance of these mentally deficient Jesus freak theocrats, right?
It was such a nice thought, too.
I hope I only have to say this once. If you appear alongside the likes of Jerry Falwell, you are tacitly supporting his bigotry. It really is that simple.
Anyone who's been around here for a while knows I'm not too fond of organized religion, and that I outright loathe the use of religion as a political tool. And not just because it caused the absolute fucking moron in the Oval Office to be re-elected. To put it bluntly, anyone who attributes a tragic event to God's wrath has no fucking place in the political arena, let alone alongside a major presidential candidate.
Luckily, this time around we don't have to deal with it. After all, they wouldn't support a Democrat if they were begged, and John McCain has gone on the record on, for instance, Jerry Fallwell, that he is an "agent of intolerance." So we should expect a 2008 Presidential election free of the targeted ignorance of these mentally deficient Jesus freak theocrats, right?
It was such a nice thought, too.
What he said: “I believe that the Christian right has a major role to play in the Republican Party”
What he meant: “There’s no fucking way I win this without them so I’m going to be their whore”
Let the record show that anyone who took part in the slander of John Kerry and his "flip flops" in 2004 is a hypocrite if they vote for McCain in 2008. But then again, I suppose that calling those swiftboating squikks hypocrites is like noting that the sun is kind of hot.I hope I only have to say this once. If you appear alongside the likes of Jerry Falwell, you are tacitly supporting his bigotry. It really is that simple.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Typed groggily in the morning, in abject opposition to custom
Pope John Paul the second is being remembered today in Rome. Catholics all over can't wait to make this man a Saint. As a dude who is still trying to excise Catholicism from his psyche, I will say that my departure from the Church was hastened by his actions. It was of course inevitable, but I might just have lasted long enough to get confirmed and claim the gifts that come to the newly confirmed in my rather large Irish Catholic extended family. What am I referring to? What on earth was such a blight on this "holy man"'s legacy?
Well for one, he put into place the policies that kept pederast priests in circulation. That they could still yet work with children, so long as no one knew. He also saved Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston from potential prosecution by giving him a cushy job in rome. Not that he was going to get put in the can for it. The Massachusetts attorney general is a Catholic.
Also under his direction, missionaries in Africa told their parishioners that condoms provide no protection against HIV, and that abstinence was the only way... because teaching abstinance has always worked, remember?
The law of God is higher than the law of Man, they say. And they say that the Pope speaks infallibly. So is that higher than law? Or truth? Or human dignity?
Even if absolute power doesn't corrupt absolutely in this case, it's still a shitty idea.
_________________________________________________________
So I finally got my laptop back. Spending a lot of time just downloading all the Windows Updates.
Got a new IM client though. gAIM is the real deal.
Daaaaaaamn its weird typing on this tiny keyboard after so long.
Didn't prank or get pranked at all this April Fools. Was considering doing something here but didn't really form any good ideas and figured that a pronouncement of my death would have been in poor taste.
Enjoyed the hell out of Miz Bohemia's Spain rant
Hope that doesn't mean it's Schadenfreude. Just love the tone that chica takes when she flies into a rage.
Alice has reopened the discussion of rape. I don't think I have anything to add to the discussion, but it's more than worth a read, as is Pia's response at BIO
Jason catalogues a vindictive act which has my full support.
As for me? I need to get the hell out of this house and get some Frisbee going, but no one around here seems to be on it.
Laters
Well for one, he put into place the policies that kept pederast priests in circulation. That they could still yet work with children, so long as no one knew. He also saved Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston from potential prosecution by giving him a cushy job in rome. Not that he was going to get put in the can for it. The Massachusetts attorney general is a Catholic.
Also under his direction, missionaries in Africa told their parishioners that condoms provide no protection against HIV, and that abstinence was the only way... because teaching abstinance has always worked, remember?
The law of God is higher than the law of Man, they say. And they say that the Pope speaks infallibly. So is that higher than law? Or truth? Or human dignity?
Even if absolute power doesn't corrupt absolutely in this case, it's still a shitty idea.
_________________________________________________________
So I finally got my laptop back. Spending a lot of time just downloading all the Windows Updates.
Got a new IM client though. gAIM is the real deal.
Daaaaaaamn its weird typing on this tiny keyboard after so long.
Didn't prank or get pranked at all this April Fools. Was considering doing something here but didn't really form any good ideas and figured that a pronouncement of my death would have been in poor taste.
Enjoyed the hell out of Miz Bohemia's Spain rant
Hope that doesn't mean it's Schadenfreude. Just love the tone that chica takes when she flies into a rage.
Alice has reopened the discussion of rape. I don't think I have anything to add to the discussion, but it's more than worth a read, as is Pia's response at BIO
Jason catalogues a vindictive act which has my full support.
As for me? I need to get the hell out of this house and get some Frisbee going, but no one around here seems to be on it.
Laters
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